Thralldom
by LadyLeafling
Summary: Under Jerry's glamour, Charlie is willing to do to anything. Sequel to Martyrdom. (Edited to adhere to site rules.)


**A/N: This was so much harder to write than it should've been. I don't know why, but I don't like it. :( And I'm a little iffy on the title too, but it fits the ****_"words that end in DOM"_****-theme I've got going, so I think I'm going to stick with it for now.**

**(Edited due to the explicit nature of the content. Full story's up on AO3 under the same name.)**

* * *

_Definition of __**Thralldom**__:_

_•1 A : a servant slave : bondman; also : serf _

_B : a person in moral or mental servitude_

_•2 A: a state of servitude or submission _

_B : a state of complete absorption_ _— thrall•dom or thral•dom _

* * *

Charlie was surprised that Jerry hadn't bitten him right then and there; that he left after leaving a hot, bruising kiss upon Charlie's reluctant lips. The teen sunk to the floor beside his window, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He couldn't believe what had happened. That he'd said _yes_.

Charlie doesn't sleep that night, or the succeeding nights thereafter. He waits for Jerry to come for him at the setting of each sun; fear making him hysterical as he sits against the headboard of his board, hands gripping his makeshift stake until he's got splinters in his palms.

It's the fourth night since the attack when Jerry finally appears. Charlie's on the fringe of unconsciousness when he hears the almost inaudible sound of Jerry's coat fluttering in the wind. The teen startles out of his reverie and clutches his weapon against his chest. His eyes are bloodshot and he breaks out in a full-body shiver that has the bed trembling underneath him. Charlie's sweating bullets. His clothes are almost soaked completely through by the time Jerry pulls his window open.

"G_oo_d evening," Jerry says in a way that's half-menacing and half-comical as he sets his feet down on Charlie's floor.

Charlie doesn't laugh because he's holding his breath. He doesn't blink as he watches Jerry advance upon him few short strides. It's unnerving, the way Jerry moves to quickly and yet so effortlessly. Charlie doesn't think he stands a fighting chance against the master vampire; Jerry could break Charlie's neck with a simple flick of his wrist. Charlie curls up into a pitiful ball, thinking he should have bought _one_ cross at the very least.

"Hm… it would seem that someone's a little shy." Jerry notes, stopping at the foot of Charlie's bed to take in the sight of the petrified teen. He looks awfully amused. Charlie wishes he wasn't so afraid; the teen wants nothing more at that moment than to wipe that filthy grin right off Jerry's face. The vampire senses his hostility, his eyes lock onto the stake in Charlie's hand and he has the gull to smirk at the teen. "Is that for _me_?" He asks with a tone of delight. "Oh, Charlie, _you shouldn't have._"

Charlie doesn't respond. He can't think of anything he could possibly bring himself to say in a situation like this. Jerry takes advantage of Charlie's silence. In a blur of movement, he seizes the teen's wrist and yanks Charlie off the bed.

"You know, some people think you're being really rude, Charlie. You haven't said hello, or asked me how my day was," Jerry pulls Charlie until the teen's chest is flushed against his own. "And you've got _this_, too?" He jerks his head towards the stake in Charlie's hands. The teen is completely immobilized against him; Jerry doesn't worry about any possibility of being gouged. "I'm beginning to think you don't like me." Jerry says in a voice that is meant to sound wounded.

He squeezes Charlie's wrists hard until the teen finally drops the stake onto the floor by their virtually entangled feet.

Charlie grits his teeth to keep from sobbing out in pain. "You're a monster," He wheezes. His body is taut against Jerry's, but he doesn't resist the vampire's hold. Defiance and fury shine in his eyes, but Jerry can smell the pure fear wafting off the teen. There's so much that the scent's probably never going to wash off of Charlie's skin.

"I've been called worse." Jerry remarks fondly.

Charlie curses at him. Cutting right to the chase, the teen snaps, "why didn't you just turn me the other night?"

"Where would the fun be in that?" Jerry answers matter-of-factly, a smirk spreading across his handsome features. "You were so scared. I had you at my utter mercy."

Charlie feels disgust wash over him as he feels Jerry's hand settle on his lower back; an insistent pressure that keeps Charlie's hips fixed against the vampire's own.

"I could have had you anyway I wanted," the vampire muses, his voice practically a purr as he leans in close enough to feel Charlie's labored breath on his face.

"Then why didn't you…?" Charlie pants, trying to lean away and keep from bearing his neck all at the same time. "Why're you making me wait… what kind of sick game are you playing at?"

"There's no game, Kid." Jerry assures, leisurely stroking Charlie's spine with the hand that kept the teen against him. Charlie shudders and Jerry can't say he isn't just a little appreciative of the teen's delicious reactions. It's been a while since he's had someone as responsive as Charlie. "I needed to make some preparations." Jerry explains.

Charlie feels punch-drunk as he tries to break eye-contact with Jerry and finds that he simply cannot. He feels hot all of a sudden; this heat climbs up his spine until he feels like he's on fire.

_"Preparations...?"_ Charlie starts to say when he feels himself being walked away from his bed and towards the opened window. He's barely got anytime to register what's happening before Jerry whisks him from his bedroom.

* * *

Jerry's house is antiquated; the fixtures are probably older than Charlie's grandparents even. If it's not still in its box, Jerry's furniture is already collecting dust tucked away in a corner to be forgotten. Charlie doesn't get the grand tour; he's taken right into one of the many bedrooms that lined the second-floor.

Jerry has him undress and Charlie feels like he's out of control of his body because he does so without much complaint. He shudders as he pulls his shirt over his head.

Jerry's house is drafty; the wind blowing in through the cracks in the walls makes him break out all over in goosebumps. Charlie drops his shirt onto the floor by his feet, feeling awkward and ungainly as he toes out of his shoes and socks next. Jerry watches him from where he stands by the fireplace. There's hunger in his eyes as he watches Charlie's hands fumble with the button of his jeans.

Charlie feels woozy as he shimmies out of his trousers. _Why's he doing this?_ His whole body feels like its vibrating as it radiates with unearthly warmth.

His jeans pool around his ankles. A part of him screams to stop, but he can't. _He just can't._ It's like he's no longer in control of his own body

When he's fully undressed, Charlie stands awkwardly in the middle of the room, his arms folded in front of him because he doesn't know what to do with them. Jerry gives him a long, appreciative look before he shrugs off his trench-coat and slings it over the arm of a nearby chair.

Charlie's afraid, he feels lightheaded... the room is spinning too fast for Charlie to register. Jerry's hand finds Charlie's hip to steady him as he sways dangerously. Charlie finds himself leaning against the master vampire for support, his hands groping uselessly at Jerry's back and shoulders as the vampire gathers him against his chest and rests his chin on the top of Charlie's head.

Charlie feels the solid weight of Jerry against him, but there's no heat emitting from the vampire's body; there's no pulse underneath his sturdy chest. It's only raw power, barely concealed underneath flesh and muscle. Power that made Charlie's hair stand on end as Jerry gently caresses the teen's cheeks and neck.

The gesture catches Charlie off-guard; it's chivalrous and oddly intimate, without even the slightest suggestion of harm. It's a far cry from anything Jerry has done to him before. Charlie turns his head to meet Jerry's gaze. His eyes are an ominous shade of crimson, focusing intently on Charlie as though he's the only person in the entire world.

The teen can't tell if the heat Jerry's eyes hold is love or hunger, triumph or menace; Charlie feels his heart skip a beat, and then suddenly... he's no longer afraid; Charlie's fear has completely vanished. In its wake there's heat, taut coiling heat that's winds ever tighter in the pit of his stomach with each passing second he spends lost in Jerry's gaze.

* * *

The teen is malleable in Jerry's hands. Charlie murmurs his contentment as Jerry reaches his hands underneath the teen to pull him upright. Charlie's elbows barely support his weight, but the teen does his best to stay where Jerry has propped him up as the vampire purrs something in his ear that he can barely discern.

Charlie hums in simple agreement, not knowing what he's agreed to as his head lolls to one side and his eyelids droop. Jerry's lips press against his neck in a gentle kiss. Charlie lets his eyes close. The room goes silent. Time seems to linger on that one second that Jerry is kissing his neck—and then those fangs pierce Charlie's skin and the teen feels himself jolting in Jerry's arms.

His whole body goes completely taut, a scream of agony lodging in Charlie's throat. His heart skips several beats as adrenaline floods his system. Pure horror crashes over him like a wave as the glamour Jerry has over him finally breaks, bringing the teen abruptly back to his senses. Horror, shame, anger... all of _his_ feelings and thoughts come rushing back to him and it's so much to process.

Charlie's shaking all over. Through all the pain, the teen feels lightheaded; feels the heat draining from his body as Jerry feeds from him. His body is going numb. Charlie feels increasingly ill. His mouth falls open as he tries to breathe. Charlie's heartbeat slows; vision going dark as his eyes start to drift.

Right when he thinks he's about to lose consciousness, Jerry pulls away. His mouth is gleaming red, his chin dripping with blood. The master vampire hisses at Charlie, hands moving to grip behind the boy's head as he makes Charlie meet his crimson gaze. Jerry's face is grotesque; gaunt and warped into a demonic caricature. Charlie feels terror flare-up inside of him once again, but he doesn't look away from the master vampire as Jerry fixes him with a piercing gaze.

"You're mine." Jerry roars.

Charlie can't shake his head _yes_ or _no_; he can't do anything. The vampire's grip is too strong to maneuver against. He can only continue to stare.

Jerry wastes no more time in turning him. And if Charlie thought that _being bitten_ hurt, being turned was infinitely worse.


End file.
